


Beneath the Pines

by InkyWandmaker



Series: Beneath The Pines [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Duscur Culture, M/M, Missing Scene: Dimitri’s escape, Racism, Trans Male Character, Trans!Dimitri, Worldbuilding, mentions of torture, missing scene: Dedue’s recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:48:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23762608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkyWandmaker/pseuds/InkyWandmaker
Summary: In the aftermath of Dedue’s plan to free Dimitri, his battered broken body is taken in by a Duscan family and nursed back to health. While among them, Dedue is reminded of all he’s missed while separated from his people and culture and attempts to reconnect.
Relationships: Dedue Molinaro & Original Character(s), Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Series: Beneath The Pines [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029900
Comments: 15
Kudos: 27





	1. Prologue

—:—

Dedue crouched in the thick shrubbery surrounding the furthest edges of the palace gardens, green eyes gazing up at the imposing architecture and filling him with a sort of determined dread at the task before him.

His Highness was set to be executed at first light tomorrow- it was now or never and Dedue would not settle for the latter. After all, it was his fault that this had happened in the first place. If only he had been stronger during that fateful fight at the monastery- if only he hadn’t allowed for them to be separated in the chaos of battle- His Highness would not have to be in this situation. He could be safe if not for Dedue’s weakness.

Still, the past was past and all Dedue could do now was right his wrongs. He watched the path of the guards from his position, the steady glow of torchlight necessary to illuminate what was a frigid, moonless night. He would have to take care to avoid the patrols all together- after all he was not equipped to fight head on, forgoing his usual heavy (and loud) armor to move faster and quieter.

Once sure he had the pattern figured out and had found his window of opportunity, Dedue sprinted forward, careful to stay crouched as low as he could to hide his very distinct silhouette among the carefully cultivated foliage he knew so well. After several heart pounding moments, he reached his intended entrance point: a simple wooden door leading from the corridor by the kitchens to the extensive herb and vegetable garden planted in the north western corner of the palace gardens. While not the closest to his final destination, it was certainly the safer option as it was not very well lit, almost completely unguarded, and hardly ever locked.

Dedue quietly cracked the door open and slipped inside, closing it behind him with a soft click. Despite his best efforts to not let himself think that way, the smell lingering in the air from the kitchens and the familiar layout made Dedue feel just a little more calm. Still, he couldn’t afford to linger nor let his guard down with His Highness’ life on the line and he pushed himself forward, following the narrow hallways intended for the many servants past the larder and servants quarters and down into the underbelly of the palace.

Immediately the smell of damp musty earth and the ever present coldness from being underground sent a shiver up Dedue’s spine despite his thick wool doublet and the well loved woven blue and red blanket his grandmother had made for him that was now tied around his waist as a makeshift holster for his hatchet. Even though the prison was still further down, Dedue could swear he still felt the malice of the place from where he stood. He had only ever been down in these tunnels once before, nearly 5 years ago now when Dimitri had first shown him around but they never went further than where he was standing now. All Dimitri had said was that down this hall were the prison cells, torture chamber, and oubliette but that they hadn’t been used since before his grandfather’s time.

Dedue had wondered just how true that information was back then but hadn’t questioned it, instead wanting to get as far away from the place as possible and never return. He found it ironic that he was now willingly walking towards the place that had unnerved him so much when he was younger to save someone who meant more to him than his own life.

To Dedue’s surprise, the prison appeared mostly unguarded. Perhaps Cornelia was over confident in her grip on the castle? After all she had to have been planning this for months- if not years- and should have had plenty of time to set everything up. On guard, Dedue withdrew his hatchet and crept forward, pushing the door open with a painfully loud creak.

The prisons were just as miserable as Dedue had imagined, the stench of mold, decay, and rats strong enough to make a lesser man gag. The cells were devoid of human life but the despair that permeated every brick of this place told a story of horrific suffering. The wall to his right was just one continuous series of tiny jail cells while the featureless stone wall to his left with its iron door was probably the torture chamber. Dedue crept forward, axe in hand before his blood went cold at the sight of a somewhat fresh blood trail- dried but still new enough to be clear upon the stone floor- heading around the corner. Stealing his nerves, Dedue rounded the corner and took a defensive stance.

As soon as he stepped into sight, there was a shout from a pair of guards down the hall and Dedue braced himself, allowing the men to charge at him- first with a spear, which he easily dodged and then countered by plunging his hatchet into the first man’s neck. With one man down, Dedue had just enough time to dive out of the way of the sword that was thrust at him, landing in a crouch and throwing his hatchet in a strong arch to imbed it in the swordsman’s shoulder. The man dropped his sword with a clatter and cried out in pain, the sound echoing through the stone chambers and making Dedue wince at how loud it was. Surely someone would have heard.

Stealing his nerves, Dedue charged forward and grabbed the injured man by his medium length brown hair, roughly slamming his face against the stone and breaking his skull. When the guard crumpled to the ground, Dedue retrieved his hatchet and ended the man’s suffering with one swift blow.

He took a moment to catch his breath, wiping the hatchet clean with the dead man’s tunic and taking the key ring from his belt. Dedue took no joy in the brutality of battle but nevertheless understood the inevitability of it. If he hadn’t done what he did, they would have killed him and his highness would be executed come dawn.

There was no other way.

At the very end of the hall, a single torch was lit against the stone wall, illuminating an iron trap door with a heavy padlock. As he approached, he noticed the blood trail from the torture chamber ended at the edge of the oubliette. Dedue crouched down and, after trying a few of the unmarked metal keys, unlocked it. 

The padlock fell aside and Dedue pulled the heavy door open, seeing only inky blackness at first. Reaching up and grasping the torch, Dedue peered inside the newly illuminated darkness, his green eyes fixing on the single point of reflected brightness coming from His Highness’ golden locks.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Dedue took in the state of his friend’s condition. Prince Dimitri was huddled in a ball, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees and head resting on his arms. He looked a mess- hair matted with sweat and blood and hands scratched and bloody from clawing at the walls and killing any opportunistic rats who tried to nibble on him, their broken carcasses scattered around his highness.

Dimitri’s captors had not bothered to strip him of his clothes- just his armor- as he was still wearing his gambeson and breeches from the battle a few days ago- the thick linen under armor keeping him warm and fending off hypothermia. Even so, the thick navy fabric was stained black with blood- the sheer volume of it alarming although it was hard to tell how much of it was Dimitri’s and how much was his enemies’.

“Your Highness!” Dedue called down, replacing the torch on the wall in favor of grabbing the long length of rope that was tied to a metal ring in the stone floor and coiled up in a heap.

“D-Dedue?” Dimitri croaked, squinting up at the light after so much time in darkness, confused. “What are you...?”

As their vision adjusted to the darkness and sudden light respectively, Dedue felt rage and anguish boil up within him at the sight of his prince’s face. The usually handsome features of the man he swore his life to were now marred by blood and bruising as a mockery of his inability to protect that which he cherished.

“I am here to get you out,” Dedue cut in, painfully aware that their narrow window of opportunity was quickly ticking away. “If I toss down the rope, do you think you could hold on long enough for me to pull you out?”

Dimitri uncurled from his fetal position and stumbled to his feet, unsteady as a baby deer. “I can t-try...”

The rope unfurled down the rough sides of the deep stone pit, the end of it dropping at Dimitri’s booted feet. With bloodied shaky hands, the prince grasped the rope and- unwilling to trust his weakened grip- wound the rough hemp around his wrists. Once secured, Dedue began to pull the rope back up as quickly as he dared with his Highness’ injured condition, wincing internally every time Dimitri’s body scraped against the jagged rocks lining the oubliette.

The moment Dimitri was within arms reach, Dedue grasped the slender muscular body in his arms and pulled him the rest of the way out. Immediately, Dimitri clutched at his body in a desperate embrace not unlike the one they had shared years prior in Duscur. Dedue still remembered that horrific night- how his father had taken his heaviest hammer from the forge and told his mother to run with the children. How his mother had physically pulled Dedue out the back door to prevent him from attempting to help his father, demanding that he run to the nearby forest as fast as he could. How he had looked back at the tree line when he realized he was alone and got to watch as his little sister fell to the earth with a scream, a volley of arrows piercing her back while his mother fell to her knees in the field, throwing her body over her dying daughter and terrified youngest son in a last ditch effort to protect them from the arrows and spears.

How Dedue had sprinted through the burning forest, vision blurred by tears as the smoke from the fires choked him and the falling cinders burned his skin. He had run with no clear destination in mind, the once comforting familiarity of the pine trees he had grown up under changed into a hellish maze of fire and death, the night punctuated by screams of sorrow and pain while Dedue struggled to keep moving, each breath a struggle and each step feeling like hot iron to his bare feet.

Eventually the pain had become too much and he fell to his knees, expecting to feel the soldier’s spears pierce his charred flesh and end his life. He remembered how defeated he had felt, how he had welcomed the hand of Mors as at least then he could be with his family.

But then His Highness- _Dimitri_ \- had stepped in. Had taken what should have been a fatal hit to Dedue in stride and lashed back at the attackers with a burning tree limb- fending them off even with his own wounds being numerous. And then, Dedue had remembered how this little blonde boy had turned to him and, even with the sadness of a thousand men in his eyes, had offered him a smile, kneeling beside him and taking his hand before falling unconscious.

The rest of that night had been a blur- the only thing Dedue remembered clearly was the way Dimitri had clung to him, screaming and lashing out any time anyone tried to separate them. There had been a desperation there- like he was sure if he let go, Dedue would simply evaporate.

It was with that same desperation that Dimitri now clung to Dedue, his body trembling like a leaf in the wind. Hesitantly, Dedue closed his arms around the man in an attempt to calm him down. As Dimitri attempted to collect himself, Dedue turned to evaluate his highness’ condition now that he could better see the extent of his injuries.

Dimitri had obviously been taken by force, his body battered from fighting tooth and nail to maintain his freedom. A wide array of cuts and bruises had turned his once creamy fair skin into a canvas of reds and blacks and purples. Dedue could tell even through his friend’s thick under armor that there was significant swelling around his leg, suggesting that it might be broken or at least severely damaged. However, the most worrying injury had to be his right eye.

A gash ran diagonally from the tail of his eyebrow to the bridge of his nose, slashing across the eyelid and damaging the eye itself- although the extent of which Dedue could not determine with his laymen’s understanding of the body and the low light. What he could tell, however, was that the wound was clearly infected- the skin red and inflamed- and if he didn’t receive medical treatment immediately, he was likely to loose it completely.

Never had Dedue wished so badly that he’d sat in on just one of Professor Manuela’s seminars- maybe then he could help his highness beyond just lifting him to his feet and supporting his weakened body.

“Can you walk? We need to leave before someone notices your absence.”

“Y-yes...?” Dimitri replied, taking a single step forward, favoring his left leg. Upon seeing the dead guard’s abandoned iron spear on the bloody stone floor, he stooped and picked it up, resting the end against the ground and leaning his weight on the shaft in a makeshift cane. Slowly, he began to shuffle forward while Dedue nervously took the lead, his hatchet in hand.

Slowly- painfully so with Dimitri’s condition- Dedue lead them back the way he came. Every step felt like it took an eternity but he didn’t dare ask Dimitri to move any faster- his highness clearly wincing in pain with every step. Dedue briefly considered offering to carry him on his back but decided against it, knowing that if- or rather _when_ \- they were spotted Dedue would need to be able to spring into action to protect Dimitri.

They had nearly made it past the cold storage pantry and into the wine cellar when a series of shouts echoed through the cramped tunnels, setting Dedue’s teeth on edge and his heart rate skyrocketing. Hearing this, Dimitri’s breathing hitched and he redoubled his efforts to clamber up the narrow, banister-less stairs into the wine cellar, the rush of adrenaline dulling some of the pain.

When Dimitri tripped halfway up the steep stairs, Dedue’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, steadying him and coaxing him up into the hallways by the kitchens. With a clear idea where Dedue intended to take him in mind and a small glimmer of hope returning at the prospect of freedom, Dimitri straightened his back and grasped Dedue’s large calloused hand with his own slender bloodied one and let the Duscan man pull him forward towards freedom.

Several hallways away from the servants quarters where they stood, soldiers were mobilizing in the main hall and beginning to search the castle and grounds, their shouts ringing through the stone hallways in a thunderstorm of sound. As the footsteps rung through the servants quarters, Dedue pulled Dimitri forward even faster, wanting to get out of the palace before the servants started waking up and going to investigate. The pair rounded the corner, their exit point within reach, only to freeze in place.

Someone was at the door, their back turned to the boys as she fussed with the lock. Dedue took his hatchet in hand and crept forward, ready to remove anyone who got in the way of his highness’ freedom. The woman turned and gasped, backing into the door she had just locked, her eyes flicking between Dedue and the prince. Dedue immediately recognized her: the head chef, and one of the few people in the palace who had ever treated him with any semblance of kindness or respect.

Slowly the woman turned her back on the two, unlocked the door out into the gardens, and then pointedly turned back around, walking into the darkened kitchen without a word. As she passed the two young men, she met Dedue’s eyes and nodded once solemnly, eyes sympathetic and face set into a look of grim determination.

Cautiously, Dedue took Dimitri’s hand and they moved forward, taking the deliberate actions of the chef for the act of sympathetic kindness that it was and escaping into the dark gardens.

Dedue didn’t bother retracing his steps through the gardens proper, choosing to run through the vegetable garden and out into the open fields surrounding the palace grounds. As he ran, his hand clasped tightly in Dimitri’s, Dedue was thankful for the moonless night and the cover of darkness it afforded them.

The two had made it about halfway to the tree line before their luck ran out.

“Look Out!” Dedue shouted, noticing the incoming spell Meteora and the mage who cast it in the distance. Adrenaline shot through his body as he sprung into action and shoved his highness out of the way. Dimitri cried out as he fell to his knees a few feet away while Dedue moved to block the rest of the attack with his own body.

“Dedue!” Dimitri screamed, crawling over to help his friend even as his own wounds screamed at him to stop. As his bloodied pale hands touched Dedue’s shoulder, he heard his friend make a strangled noise halfway between a whimper and a growl.

Dedue forced himself up, his now battered body attempting to betray his will. On unsteady legs, he reached out to his highness and pulled him to his feet as well, holding his slender cold hands in his own warm calloused ones even after Dimitri had regained his footing.

“Your highness you _must_ go,” Dedue squeezed his hands to emphasize his words. “Run and I’ll hold them off.”

The distance between the boys and the rapidly approaching guards was growing shorter and shorter by the second. Dimitri could hear their battle cries now. “No, Not without you!”

“Please-!” Dedue hissed in pain as an arrow cut his shoulder. Dimitri didn’t wait to listen to the rest of his words as he began to pull him forward, his inhuman strength a death grip on his best friend’s wrist. For a few yards he managed to drag them both before he felt Dedue pull free of his grasp just before they reached the cover of the forest. Dimitri stopped dead in his tracks, turned, and in the dark night, he searched Dedue’s face for answers.

His face was a picture of determination, his strong features appearing hard but his eyes shone bright with unspoken words. Dimitri reached out for his dearest friend, touching his face. “Why Dedue?” He whispered as tears began to fall from both their eyes. “Why save me if you didn’t plan on coming with me?”

“Dimitri...” Dedue stepped forward and gently brushed some hair out of his prince’s face, his eyes tender as he pressed a kiss against Dimitri’s lips.

Dimitri stood frozen- his heart racing as Dedue whispered a few words into his ear before turning and running headfirst into battle against the guards. Tears fell to the earth as Dimitri stood at the tree line and watched as Dedue took down soldier after soldier, the attacks of his enemies seeming to be mere inconveniences to him even as several men piled on top of him to bring him to his knees. From a distance, their eyes met and, as a soldier prepared to ram a sword through Dedue’s body, Dimitri finally turned and ran, his best friend’s last words to him feeling like a hundred arrows to his heart.

_”Because I love you.”_

—:—


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! When I posted this I realized I hadn’t added any authors notes and my sister recommended that I add a glossary of the terms used in this chapter relating to Duscan culture which will be at the end.
> 
> Please leave a comment and kudos if you enjoy my work! It inspires me to do more.

—:—

There was a certain peacefulness to the hour just before sunrise. The birds were still sleeping, the forest floor was still crisp with frost and dead pine needles and Zion could wander through the trees checking traps and gathering kindling without feeling like he was underfoot.

The young boy crested a hill and took as deep a breath as his chest binding allowed him, watching the first rays of dawn hit the ephemeral frost and set it glittering like diamonds.

Beautiful.

Zion watched the sunrise for a few moments, his grey eyes sweeping from the tops of the pines to the shadows on the forest floor. Then, he noticed him.

There was a body there, beneath the pines. Cautiously, Zion approached, an arrow loosely knocked as he crept over to the prone form. The person- most likely a man by how big his body was- lay almost face down in the dirt, a pool of half-dried, dark blood slowly creeping out and away from his head. As Zion got closer, he noticed a few things about this man laying broken on the forest floor.

First was his race. This man was clearly from Duscur- the silver hair, the warm brown skin, the gold earring with the symbol of Sol- they all indicated that this man was as much a Duscan as Zion and his family were. Immediately Zion relaxed his hold on the arrow completely, crouching down to take a closer look at him.

The second thing he noticed was that this man was in bad shape. It was little wonder Zion mistook him for a corpse at first- without a miracle this man would surely be in the hands of Mors within the next few hours. Carefully, Zion put a hand on the stranger’s much too cold shoulder and rolled him over onto his back.

“Can you hear me Brother?” he asked, shaking the unresponsive man gently. No response. The only thing that told Zion the man wasn’t dead was the unsteady, shallow rise and fall of his chest. Zion frowned when he glimpsed the man’s face- black and blue and cut to ribbons. This wasn’t an accident. Someone deliberately beat him and left him for dead in the woods- left him to die cold and alone and unknown. Zion carefully pulled his thick woolen shawl off his shoulders and dropped it over the man.

“Hang in there brother, I’m going to get help.”

Biting his lip to stop the shiver that threatened to creep up his spine, Zion ran back towards his family’s home to get his uncle.

—:—

“Are you sure he was around here Zion?”

“Yes! He was just over this hill.”

Kareem grumbled under his breath, unconvinced as his nephew ran ahead of him- suede boots slipping on some leaves.

Zion huffed, his chest hurting a bit from his impromptu sprint home and back, as he crested the hill and pointed. “See? He’s right there.”

Kareem followed the boy’s finger, squinting in the early morning light only to have the color drain from his face. He recognized that man. Picking up the pace a bit, the two Duscan men dropped to their knees beside their wounded brother. Carefully, Kareem felt for a pulse as Zion studied him, a question in his eyes.

“He’s still got a pulse although it’s weaker than I would like. Let’s get him to Ishanna- _quickly_.”

Zion nodded and helped Kareem get the larger man up into his uncle’s arms- a feat easier said than done with just how big their fallen brother was. Nonetheless after a few moments of careful maneuvering they began the trek back to their humble home, moving as fast as they dared.

Kareem was impressed that it took Zion until they were nearly 2/3rds of the way home before he finally blurted out the question he had been holding in.

“Do you know him?”

“Yes. And no.” Kareem exhaled- half a sigh and half from exertion. “Remember that rebellion a few months back?”

“The one organized by Sa’ar?”

A nod. “There was a young man from Duscur among the group who arrived to aide the kingdom soldiers- their numbers led by the Crown Prince of Faerghus himself. It took only a few moments fighting them to realize just how outmatched we were. We were prepared to fight to the death but instead of taking our lives all the men and women led by the prince did was tell us to go. When Sa’ar was confronted, it was obvious that while the prince was commanding their group, it was actually this man who had arranged to intervene and convinced his fellow soldiers to spare us.” Kareem looked down at the almost corpse in his arms- noticing just how _young_ he really was- certainly not older than Kareem’s late younger brother. “He saved our lives, now we save his.”

Zion nodded, picking up the pace. He remembered the fallout from that rebellion all too well. The men had complained to the aldermen about Sa’ar’s leadership and the alders had decided to appoint Kareem as leader instead. A wise decision really seeing how brash and careless Sa’ar has been- how they had all been nearly slaughtered if it hadn’t been for the unexpected kindness from a stranger.

A stranger who Zion now had a face for.

Their family’s cabin came into view and Zion held open the door, letting his uncle carefully duck into the small living area before shutting the door behind him to keep the cold out. Kareem immediately carried the man over to the fur rug in front of the fire, calling for his wife while slipping a pillow beneath his head.

“Ishanna! Come quickly we need your help!”

Light footfalls approached from one of the rooms, fast and accompanied by her soft grumbling about waking Koh.

“This better be important, I had just-“ Ishanna’s voice died in her throat as she saw the man on her rug and immediately slipped into healer mode, face becoming serious as she fetched her first aid kit, dropped down to her knees, and begin the complicated and lengthy process of pulling the broken man back together.

Kareem sat off to the side and watched his wife work, always fascinated by how she could make things whole again. First she pressed her hands to the young man’s chest and murmured a spell, the glow of the magic closing some of the lesser wounds. Once she had exhausted the abilities of her magic, she dipped her needle in alcohol and started suturing the larger gashes closed.

“...dare I ask what happened?” She finally asked, finishing up some stitches on his face and snipping the suture thread.

“Zion found him like this in the forest. He looked like he had probably been there for maybe a few hours at most.” Kareem noticed his wife preparing to address the extensive wounds and burns along the man’s back and moved to support the unconscious man for her. 

“But how did this happen I wonder?” Ishanna poured some alcohol on a bit of gauze and began disinfecting the various wounds along the young man’s back. 

“I don’t know but...” Ishanna paused and fixed her husband with a searching look. Kareem fidgeted a bit as he shifted his hold on the man. “I think he works for the prince in some way.”

Ishanna stopped her work completely and frowned at Kareem. “What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t know much honestly. Just that- well, remember when I went to be part of Sa’ar’s revolt? Well the Kingdom army’s reinforcements were led by none other than their prince. It was clear we were greatly outmatched but instead of killing our men, the prince and his men spared us. Told us to retreat. One of their leaders was this man- he was standing alongside the prince like... I don’t know. I didn’t get a chance to speak with them but it seemed like he was the one who convinced the prince to intervene. We all would have been massacred by the Kingdom soldiers if they hadn’t come.”

“A Duscan with influence over the Kingdom’s prince...” Ishanna mumbled, lost in thought as she wound bandages around the young man’s middle. “Now that is a story I’d like to hear- if he lives to tell it that is.”

—:—

The family took turns looking after their patient- carefully tending his wounds and monitoring his precarious condition. Once it was made clear that their guest would be with them for some time, Kareem, with Zion’s help, had carried his daughter’s pallet into the common area for him to rest on. After all, Koh was still small enough that she didn’t mind sharing a bed with her parents for however long it was necessary.

And it seemed the young man would be here for a while- his wounds indicative of a long road to recovery. For several days he hadn’t so much as twitched, Ishanna worrying that his condition might be taking a turn for the worse. Nevertheless, they all kept watch at his bedside- patiently awaiting a change in his condition.

Finally, on the 4th night, he regained consciousness.

Kareem had been the one watching over him at the time- sitting on the couch by the low fire with his 5 year old daughter curled up against his side, asleep. At first, the warrior had thought the soft groan was just his imagination- wishful thinking on his part. But then he saw the young man moving slightly, his bruised and beaten face pinched in a grimace of pain as he regained consciousness. Kareem had immediately stood up, kneeling down at the man’s bedside and reaching out to stop him from trying to get up.

“Peace, brother. You are safe.”

Bleary misty green eyes cracked opened and tried to focus in the low light from the hearth. “W-where...?”

“We found you in the forest and took you back to my home. My wife has been treating your injuries.” The man groaned a bit, obviously in pain as he tried to move. Quickly Kareem placed his hands on the stranger’s torso to hold him still.

The stranger stilled and, after a moment, his eyes focused on Kareem, confused. “Who are you?”

“My name is Kareem. And you, brother?”

The young man closed his eyes a let his head fall backwards onto his makeshift pillow. Kareem was worried for a moment that he had fallen unconscious again when the young man spoke.

“Dedue. My name is Dedue.”

—:—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary of Duscan Terms:
> 
>  **Deity Earring:** a gold earring unique to each individual bearing a symbol of their chosen patron deity. Represents the soul of its wearer and is meant to never be removed except by their family in death. It is received in a ceremony marking a child’s transition into adolescence (at age 12)
> 
>  **Sol:** Goddess of the Sun and Life. Wife to Mors. Dedue’s patron deity.
> 
>  **Mors:** God of Moon and Death. Husband to Sol.
> 
> —:—
> 
> If you have any questions about my interpretation of the Duscan Culture please ask! I love world building and interacting with readers


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys- here’s another chapter. At the end there will be a glossary of Duscan terms used in this chapter but if you’d be interested I could make a separate fic with all the cultural terms I have as well as character bios and other things. Please let me know if that’s something that would interest you.

—:—

When Dedue next regained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was the smell. Someone was cooking Duscan food and along with the familiar smells and sounds of home came a deep pang of sorrow.

The next thing he noticed was the pain. It started when he had tried to sit up and he gasped at the shock of it. His whole body was throbbing in pain but the worst of it was along his lower back and chest. As he struggled to sit up, there was the sound of a pot lid being replaced and footsteps before a pair of hands gently supported his shoulders and helped him sit up.

When Dedue opened his eyes, for a single, irrational, fleeting moment he thought the woman standing before him was his mother, Isa. Another few blinks dispelled that illusion as instead he was face to face with a kind looking stranger. 

“Good afternoon, friend. How are you feeling?” She asked, pulling up a low stool and arranging her colorful woven skirts around her as she sat.

“Bad.” Dedue croaked out, his voice harsh from pain and disuse. The woman nodded sagely.

“I am not surprised, you were very bad off when my husband carried you in here. You’ve been unresponsive for nearly 5 days.” She smiled kindly. “My name is Ishanna by the way- and what is yours?”

“Dedue.” 

“Well,” Ishanna stood up, moving over to the kitchen area, “you must be hungry. Can I get you something?”

“Water, please.” Dedue rasped, taking stock of his body, wiggling his toes and fingers just to be sure he still could. Looking down he realized that he had been covered up with the blanket he had been wearing as a sash- and that it had been washed. Dedue ran his fingers over the faded colorful designs, feeling nostalgic for a time long gone.

Ishanna returned from the kitchen area with a tray holding a cup and a bowl which she set before her guest. When Dedue didn’t look up from his lap, she followed his gaze and took a moment to admire the designs as well.

“It’s a beautiful receiving blanket. Seemed a shame to leave it covered in blood and dirt.” When Dedue finally looked up she smiled kindly. “You should eat and then I’ll take a look at your injuries okay?”

Dedue nodded and, in the corner of his eye, he saw a little girl attempting to sneak around him. Following his gaze, Ishanna turned and laid eyes on her daughter.

“Koh, come meet our guest,” she called, her hand extending toward the little girl and encouraging her to come over. Shyly, Koh moved closer to her mother, her hands twisting her own receiving blanket nervously. “Koh has been very curious about you,” Ishanna remarked as her daughter pressed her face into her skirt shyly. “This is Dedue- say hello to him.”

Koh peeked out and mumbled a quite “hi,” her blue eyes fixed on the stranger in her home.

“Hello,” Dedue replied, smiling softly when the child blushed and scampered away, embarrassed. She reminded him of his sister, Verbena, when she was that age. As Ishanna stood to follow after her child, Dedue turned to his food and began to eat, savoring the taste.

It was nice to eat something with actual favor once in a while without having to make it himself.

—:—

While Ishanna was changing his bandages, Dedue decided to ask about the extent of his injuries and how long until he would recover. He was met with a heavy silence as the kind woman thought over his words.

“...I won’t lie to you Dedue, your recovery will be a lengthy one. I’m still unsure if you even _can_ completely heal from this- it’s not impossible but...”

As she trailed off, focusing on applying a salve to a gouge on his back, Dedue took a deep fortifying breath, squeezing his eyes closed as he focused on his breathing. A long recovery meant that it would be a long time until he could return to his highness’ side- much less be of any help to him. The way he was now he would be more of a hinderance than anything else. All of that was supposing his highness had even managed to survive-

Dedue’s breath hitched and he clenched his teeth, forcing the thought from his mind. Dimitri had to be alive- Dedue would not except any other outcome.

“I’m sorry- did that hurt?” Ishanna’s already gentle touch became even softer, her fingertips barely touching his injured flesh.

“What?” Dedue responded, unsure what she was referring to.

“You winced just a moment ago, is this area still tender? I can get you something for the pain if you’d like.”

Dedue shook his head, his eyes still closed. “No, this is fine. Please continue.”

Ishanna made a noncommittal noise but didn’t press the issue, choosing to continue to apply her salves along the numerous wounds, frowning at not just the amount but the variety of them. There were cuts and bruises of course but there were also puncture wounds, burns, and damage caused by magical attacks- and that didn’t even cover the numerous old burns and scars that hadn’t healed properly, wounds that had to ache and burn even years after they were received.

“What happened to you brother?” She murmured, heart aching. “How did you get so injured?”

“I was fighting to protect what I loved,” Dedue bowed his head, his unbound hair hiding his face. “I wasn’t strong enough to defend us both.”

Ishanna opened her mouth to ask for more information only to be interrupted by the door outside opening and closing, a cold draft blowing in as her husband and nephew entered the cabin.

“Well,” Kareem smiled, hanging his woodcutters axe up on the wall by the door. “You’re awake! Glad to see you back among the living brother.”

Dedue looked up, vaguely recognizing the grown man smiling at him. He was strong- his muscles even more defined than Dedue’s were- and he wore the jewelry of a warrior, his septum ring and earring marking him a follower of the war god, Belumnas. Besides the gold wedding ring on his left hand, an additional gold hoop hung above the heavy shield-like design of his deity earring, signifying he was a father of one.

Behind him was another boy- a young teenager by the looks of it, his body still lean and in the awkward stage between child and adult. Unlike the large man he half hid behind, his hair was shaved on the sides with the top cut short. In his right ear, a twisting spiral of etched gold dangled; a traditional symbol for the sky god, Caelum.

“Welcome back. I do hope you aren’t planning on coming in here looking like that.” Ishanna remarked, eyeing the mud caked on the bottom of their boots. Sheepishly, the two men wiped their shoes off before entering the cabin proper. Ishanna paused her work just long enough for her husband to kiss her cheek.

Dedue looked up and locked eyes with the older man, receiving his extended hand with his own, clasping his forearm firmly in greeting.

“Good to officially meet you Dedue- we’ve all been worried about you. My name is Kareem by the way and this-“ Kareem released Dedue’s arm in favor of waving the teenager over, “- is my nephew, Zion. He was the one who found you in the forest.”

Dedue clasped forearms with the young man, making eye contact for a moment before letting go as was custom. With introductions out of the way, Zion and Kareem each took a seat in their modest living area, giving Ishanna enough space to continue his treatment.

“Dedue was just telling me how he was injured,” Ishanna said, a bit pointedly. Dedue swallowed hard.

“I...” he cleared his throat and tried again. “I don’t remember everything that happened exactly. I know the burns are from the spell Meteora. The rest...various weapons. Swords, spears- the usual kingdom soldier equipment.”

Kareem frowned, tucking a loose beaded braid behind his ear. “Do you know a lot about the kingdom soldiers?” he asked, an accusation present in the words but not in his tone which stayed warm and friendly. Dedue looked up, locking eyes with the man, his face as impassive as stone. 

Several seconds passed, the tension building until Zion spoke up. “What he means is that he remembers you from the failed rebellion several moons ago- when you were fighting with the kingdom.”

Dedue looked from Zion back to Kareem who nodded his agreement. The younger man remained silent for a time, choosing his next words very carefully. “I was not fighting with the kingdom then. The men and women I fought beside were affiliated with the Church of Seiros.”

“Yet they were led by the Kingdom Prince,” Kareem added, skeptical. Dedue met his eyes confidently.

“Yes. When he heard of the Rebellion, he arranged to be part of the reinforcements. He ordered his men to only subdue- not kill.”

“But why did he come in the first place? Kleiman’s forces were strong enough to have slaughtered us- he didn’t need reinforcements.”

Dedue was quiet, his eyes in his lap to hide the tiny smile trying to pull at his lips. “Because I asked him to.”

There was a heavy silence, Ishanna and Kareem sharing a look over Dedue’s bowed head. Ishanna tied off the bandages a rested a hand on Dedue’s shoulder to get him to look up.

“I am finished, Dedue. Give me a moment to make you something for the pain. Zion-“ she made deliberate eye contact with her nephew, “come help me pick the herbs.”

Zion looked like he wanted to protest but, after glancing between everyone’s faces thought better of it. He stood and followed his aunt outside leaving Dedue alone with Kareem.

“There is something unsaid in your words brother,” Kareem stated, his arms crossed. “So allow me to be perfectly clear: I want to help you but I will not risk my family’s safety to do so. I would ask that you tell me the truth from here on out.”

“Understood,” Dedue readily responded. “I will not do anything to endanger the lives of you or your family.”

Kareem’s expression softened considerably. “Good. Now tell me- what are you to the Prince? Why would he listen to you?”

“Officially, I am his vassal. However, his Highness frequently resents me calling myself as such, insisting that he would rather be my friend.” Dedue sighed, closing his eyes with a wistful smile. “He is too earnest for his own good- and he does not understand why I cannot allow for us to be friends.”

Kareem studied Dedue, thoughtful. “So you are his servant and he your master. Why?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Why would he take you for a servant instead of killing you? Why do you willingly serve him?”

“His Highness believes the Duscan people to be innocent. He was present when his father, the King, was executed and he is insistent that the men who perpetrated the attack were not from Duscur.” Dedue paused, expression pained. “When he heard of the raids he tried to convince the Regent to stop it but no one would listen.”

Kareem wanted to snort in derision, only halted by the look on his guest’s face- his disbelief threatened by Dedue’s honest expression. “But why serve him?”

“...After my family was killed, I was caught by some soldiers who were going to kill me. He protected me from their spears with his own body and continued to protect me from any subsequent attempts to dispose of me.” Dedue huffed a small humorless laugh, his eyes lost in memory. “He actually grabbed onto me- literally refusing to let go the whole way back to Fhirdiad and lashing out at anyone who tried to separate us. Despite opposition from nearly everyone around him, he insisted I was to be one of his retainers and, unable to dissuade the Prince and unable to oppose him, I was offered a place in the royal household.”

Kareem rubbed at his mouth, thoughtful. “How strange...”

Dedue didn’t respond, trying to focus on his surroundings: the low crackling fire in the hearth, the smell of spice and smoked meat in the air, the woven quilts and blankets making up his bedding- he tried to focus on those things instead of his numerous failings as his highness’ shield to no avail.

This was all his fault.

He should have seen Edelgard’s treachery coming. He should have been faster down in the Holy Mausoleum- should have been there to cut a path for his Highness and hand him that woman’s head. He should never have let them be separated in battle. He should have been stronger. Faster. Better. 

Instead he had let his highness be captured and framed for a crime he hadn’t committed. He had let Dimitri be tortured and imprisoned. He was a failure through it all- and in the end, he hadn’t even been able to escort his highness to safety.

And even when he was sure he couldn’t possibly sink any lower in his highness’ eyes, he had forced a kiss upon the prince and impulsively confessed his greatest secret to him, sure it was his last moments alive.

Yet here he was. For some reason Mors had not taken him and now he was left with nothing but his failures and his guilt. 

The door to the cabin opened once again and Ishanna reentered the room, her nephew right behind her with a cup of medicinal tea in hand. Kareem looked over and nodded to his wife, satisfied with their guest’s answers.

Ishanna gently rested a hand on Dedue’s shoulder, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts and back into the present. “We’ve brought you some tea for the pain.”

Graciously, Dedue excepted the ceramic cup and, upon lifting the cup to take a sip, smiled ever so slightly. Ginger tea with willow- the same tea his mother made for his _avia_ when her arthritis would bother her.

As he slowly drank the tea, he listened to the family chat about among themselves about their day: how Kareem and Zion’s hunt went, how Koh was, if they had heard from their neighbors recently- a purely domestic conversation in their mother tongue.

It wasn’t until after Dedue had finished his tea and laid down to rest that it finally hit him.

This was the first time in over 5 years that he’d had a meaningful conversation with someone in his native language. Sure he had occasionally asked his highness for a translation or offered a prayer to his patron deity when he was sure it was safe but to actually have it spoken back...to hear the so called “barbaric language of the regicides” spoken as it was intended...

It was more soothing than any cup of ginger tea.

—:—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary of Duscan Terms:
> 
>  **Deity Earring:** a gold earring unique to each individual bearing a symbol of their chosen patron deity. Represents the soul of its wearer and is meant to never be removed except by their family in death. It is received in a ceremony marking a child’s transition into adolescence (at age 12)
> 
>  **Sol:** Goddess of the Sun and Life. Wife to Mors. Dedue’s patron deity.
> 
>  **Mors:** God of Moon and Death. Husband to Sol.
> 
>  **Receiving Blanket:** a long intricately woven blanket given to a pregnant mother by their family to wrap the newborn in. These blankets are traditionally woven by the women of the child’s family- such as a grandmother or aunt- and often have symbols of love or protection woven into them. They are used for many things including swaddling, baby wearing, and as a security blanket when the child is older. These blankets are kept by the child and continue to be used in many capacities well into adulthood.
> 
>  **Body Piercings:** aside from the Deity Earring, Duscans also pierce themselves following major life events or their chosen career path.  
> Common ones include:  
>  _Earring(s) above the Deity Earring:_ the wearer in a parent. Multiple earrings= multiple children. These are never removed.  
>  _Earring(s) on the ear OPPOSITE the deity earring:_ the wearer is a grandparent. Multiple earrings= multiple grandchildren. These are never removed.  
>  _Nose Piercing:_ The wearer is considered a journeyman or someone who regularly travels outside of Duscur for work or education.  
>  _Septum Piercing:_ the wearer is a warrior or hunter  
>  _Lip Ring (Middle of bottom lip):_ The wearer is a priest or priestess of their chosen deity
> 
>  **Avia:** The Duscan word for Grandmother


End file.
